


with the ghost of you

by asdfghakunamatata



Series: my spotify playlist on shuffle [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on a 5 Seconds of Summer Song, Car Accidents, Denial, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heartbreak, Hurt Jung Wooyoung, Hurt No Comfort, I cried writing this, Jung Wooyoung-centric, M/M, Mental Breakdown, One Shot, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Soft Choi San, Soft Jung Wooyoung, Survivor Guilt, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asdfghakunamatata/pseuds/asdfghakunamatata
Summary: Wooyoung can't believe in a world without Choi San.That boy was engraved in every part of his memory, in every waking moment they were together, in every piece of his life. Which is why he can't believe a life without San could ever exist.So, he doesn't.Or,Love destroys people.It certainly destroyed Jung Wooyoung.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: my spotify playlist on shuffle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062311
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	with the ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born when I accidentally clicked shuffle on my spotify playlist... sad songs are my muse wbk 😗✌️ this one is inspired by 5SOS 'Ghost of You' so listen to it and you'll get the gist (and the feeeeels) of what this story's about.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments and let me know what you thought!
> 
> Enjoy~

Wooyoung _loves_ waking up to the smell of frangipanis tickling his nose.

It’s the fragrant that greets him with a kiss every morning, the first thing that registers in his mind when he wakes up.

When his eyes flutter open, catching onto the dark, luscious locks brushing his chin, he buries his nose into them as he does routinely. It’s an intoxicating scent. One that Wooyoung has attached himself to.

Like every other morning, he snakes his arms around the body pressing against his, pulling them closer than physically possible. It’s the reason he’s able to wake up, tender giggles rippling from his throat. He smiles into the soft bed of hair, feeling the person underneath stir to life at his actions.

Wooyoung counts himself the luckiest man in the world, being able to soak in the heavenly sight of San’s body moulded into his, arms wrapped around his waist like his handles were made to be held by him. Their legs tangled like candy cane stripes against the sheets and Wooyoung likes the squeezing weight between them.

He sounds like a sap.

Yeosang would even call him a fool (or in his own words, “an overbearing idiot”) in love, and who was he to deny it?

“I never thought I’d be that kind of boyfriend,” he murmurs, San tilting his head, pulling him away from the bed of hair to meet his eyes. “But you make me into a complete and utter fool, Choi San.”

Through his half lidded, sleepy eyes, Wooyoung captures the soft smile on San’s face, the crinkling of his eyes matching adorably to the dimples digging into his cheeks. He slots his nose against the boy’s angled one, their eyes not breaking their enchanting eye contact.

“Do you have any idea the kind of power you have over me?” he breathes against San’s lips, fluttering his eyes closed before capturing his lips with his own. 

The kiss was gentle, moulding seamlessly against his like they were meant to. Like his lips were only created to kiss the boy in his arms. 

Wooyoung guides him to his back, rolling over and propping his elbows on either side of the boy. San takes him in, letting him overpower his larger body, pining him down against the sheets.

They doesn’t stop once. Not even for a breath. 

It does wonders to the butterflies in Wooyoung’s stomach. It was more than that. It was like fresh spring had graced upon them and the butterflies were taking a trip into the garden with flowers beneath his skin, ones that bloomed just for him.

Wooyoung knows himself well. He’s always had a personality that likes to be in control, likes to know that he has a handle over everything that happens to him. But with San, he allows it. He allows the run wild of emotions that San induces him with. He allows those feelings to break free through his skin, enflaming him with every hair on his body.

With San, he loses all sense of control.

It was the waft of fresh pancakes that pulls them apart, reminding them of the world they lived in apart from the one they've created themselves.

Wooyoung forces himself to retreat, but not before leaving a trail of peppering kisses in his wake, feeling the latter shake from falling giggles. When he’s satisfied (or at the very least, satiated from his morning ‘San’ indulgence), he rolls himself off the bed recklessly, a motion he should’ve thought twice before making. 

Landing on his left foot, his casted leg bore the electrifying pain of his weight and its impact, but Wooyoung manages a wince, gritting his teeth. He waits for the pain to numb (or, being as impatient as he was, reduce to a dulling throb) before he stood up, body wavering for a moment. 

He quickly pulls a red hoodie over his head and makes something out of his nested bed hair. One glance at San and he’s leaning over to do the same, chuckling lightly at how childish the boy looked with the cow lick sticking into the air.

“We should probably head out for breakfast now or Seonghwa hyung might think we're dead,” Wooyoung sniggers, missing the eccentric smile on San’s face. 

The delectable waft of pancakes lures him into the dining table where all the other members are gathered. Low conversation fills the air as he limps towards them, reducing to soft, quick murmurs when he enters the room. 

He pays no mind to the watchful eyes trailing after him as he slides into his seat, thanking Seonghwa for the plate of fresh pancakes he had slid in front of him. The succulent pancakes, soaked in a mess of honey glaze has Wooyoung’s mouth watering, his stomach grumbling as if he hasn’t eaten for days. When he digs a fork into the mix, taking bite after bite of the delicacy, the members slip back into hushed conversations, though they fall dead on Wooyoung’s ears.

He’s on to his fifth bite when he finally looks up, casting glances between each member, when he finally notices it.

Seonghwa looks less than engaged in the conversation around the table when Wooyoung turns to him.

“Hyung, why are there only seven plates?”

From the corner of his eye, he notices the other members pausing, the scraping of metal forks against porcelain plates halting in movement. Seonghwa himself looks taken aback by his question, his eyes widening, involuntarily leaning away as if Wooyoung had struck him against his cheek.

“H— Wha—“ his hyung stutters, blinking slowly. “What are you talking about, Woo?”

Wooyoung licks his lips, tasting the remnants of honey sticking to them. “Sannie’s gonna get upset when he finds out you forgot to put out a plate for him.” 

He picks up the mug of tea in front of him, taking a sip but immediately draws back when he tastes peppermint. Yuck. San must’ve forgotten to get their usual French Earl.

On the other hand, Seonghwa pales, his eyes peeling wider than before. His mouth hangs loose, darting from Wooyoung to their leader then back to the boy. “Woo— I—“ the sob that catches on the end cuts him off, forcing him to turn away.

Wooyoung didn’t expect to see the layer of glistening tears to form from asking a harmless question. Startled, he waves his hands dismissively at his hyung. “W-Woah, hyung, I was just kidding.” His half-hearted apology does nothing to ease the tension, but he ignores them, picking up the last piece of his honey-soaked pancake. “You know that Sannie could never get mad at you. At the very most, he’ll just whine at you for the rest of the day or something.”

Somehow, this elicits a string of gasps that particularly bothers him. He can’t understand the exaggerated responses around him. All he did was tease Seonghwa a little. He always did that anyways. All of them did?

A cold hand presses against his forehead, jolting him in his seat as he whiplashes towards the culprit next to him. Yeosang peels his hand away, narrowing his eyes with a calculative look. “Woo, are you feeling okay?”

This time, he scoffs, creaking his chair against the wooden floor. “I’m _fine_. Are _you_ all okay? All I did was tease him a little. You’re acting like I hurt his feelings.” He gathers his plate, proceeding to the kitchen by hopping on his one good leg. “I’ll set a plate for him myself if that’s what’s bothering all of you.”

There was still some pancake batter left in a mixing bowl, so Wooyoung pours some over the heated pan and waits. He can make out the hushed whispers of his members but the words don’t register in his mind. He’s only focused on one thing. He’s going to make the perfect breakfast for his boyfriend.

The glowing fire against the stove heats the pan in his hand, effectively stealing his attention from the hushed, yet sharp whispers from the dining room. Wooyoung pours in the rest of the batter, tapping his foot as he waits for the pancake to form.

_“Joong… he’s… what was that?“_

_“Yeah. Something’s wrong.”_

Wooyoung flips the pancake, humming softly to a tune he’d been listening to to himself. Nodding his head with the barest smile on his lips, he makes a mental note to share the song with San later.

_“Hyung, should we…”_

_“We… we don’t have time, right now. The van’s here we have to go—“_

_“But Hyung!”_

_“Joong… what about…”_

The pancake finally takes shape and Wooyoung flips it onto the plate, flooding it with honey, blueberries and chocolate drizzle the way San likes it.

_“We— Let’s hope he comes back to his senses by then.”_

Wooyoung swings the door open with his back, hobbling on his good foot when Yunho slides from his seat to help the disabled boy to his. He thanks him quietly, still ignoring the darkened expressions that were albeit more teary eyed and more roughened than when he first stepped into the room. But Wooyoung hadn’t had the conscience to care— not even having a shred of sympathy after their bothersome display earlier.

He simply slides the freshly cooked meal by San’s designated spot, folds his arms on the table and waits. If San had been showering since he had left him earlier, he should be here anytime soon. 

He hopes his boyfriend wouldn’t mind the partially burnt pancake, though he’s not worried. He can already imagine San’s reaction; eyes popping wide on the first bite, sparkles protruding from them before shooting him a thumbs up like he always does when Wooyoung cooks for him.

It’s Hongjoong who breaks their impenetrable silence with a burdening sigh, pushing himself from the table.

“Wooyoung,” he calls, dark eyes drilling holes into Wooyoung’s bored ones. It takes a tentative second before the glint of hardness in them falters, resigning as Hongjoong hangs his head. “We… we have a schedule to get to. We’ll be back as soon as we can to… figure this all out.”

Wooyoung is _very_ aware of the sharp gazes penetrating in his way, teetering at the edge of his mind. But he shoves them away, maintaining the disinterested expression he locked onto his features.

“Will you be okay at home?” Seonghwa, with his brows knitted and lips twitching into a frown, cups a hand over his, but Wooyoung immediately tears his hand away at the touch, looking away so he wouldn’t have to meet the hurt in his eyes.

He simply shrugs, the dullness in his features not wavering.

He hasn’t been to the company for a month now, waiting for his fractured leg to heal. His members, on the other hand, would sift in and out of their dorms at different times. Wooyoung would have never known what their schedules were either, the rest barely speaking to him ever since he came home with a cast on his leg and a different, unfathomable expression on their faces. 

If the members weren’t going to speak to him, he couldn’t find the effort in him to try approaching them either.

Though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries, ignore the finger-flicking pangs against his heart when he sees the broken tears that escape Jongho’s eyes when he thinks no one’s watching, the way Mingi’s fingers dig _too deep_ into his palms, the subtle cries he hears in the still of the night from the wall that separates him from his best friend, the tired, broken lines on Seonghwa’s features with the look of barely holding on intertwined in them, or the cracks in the composure masking Hongjoong’s face like the form of a shattering spirit.

The rest of members slowly rise from their seats. One by one, they disappear out the door, but not without giving Wooyoung a gentle squeeze on the arm or a kiss on his head with the promise of being back soon. Wooyoung hopes the heavy smile pressed onto his lips was enough to convince them not to worry.

There was nothing to worry about.

San’s there with him.

San was _always_ there with him.

Suddenly, Yeosang wraps his arms around him, resting his chin briefly on Wooyoung’s head, but he feels the gentle tremble coming from the boy. “You’re… You’re going to be okay. Prom— _promise me, you’ll be okay.”_

Yeosang was never one to let his emotions creep beyond his words. Despite his innocently gentle character, he could be counted as the team’s most emotionally stable member. Hearing the _vulnerability_ in his words catches Wooyoung off.

Nevertheless, he nods stiffly without turning.

Loosening his tight grip reluctantly, Yeosang hesitates, before pulling away. The sound of his footsteps followed, echoing down the hallway, but only after a pregnant pause later did he hear a click of the front door.

The silence crept into every crease of the room, only the low buzz of the air vents dissipating into white noise. 

Wooyoung hadn’t once torn his eyes away from the empty seat in front of him during the whole exchange, pancakes now at the threat of turning cold.

Still, he cups his hands together, resting his head on his chin.

And waits.

* * *

The static conversation of running television filters through his ear first when he slips back into consciousness. He blinks momentarily, feeling the soft fabric of cotton against his skin before registering the fact that his body was pressed stiffly into their living room couch. When the familiar dark locks come into his view, elation seizes his heart, spreading the flush of a smile across his face instantly.

“Sannie,” he calls softly, straightening himself, his back stiff from the position he’d taken on the couch. 

San tilts his head upwards from where he was leaning on his chest and Wooyoung can faintly make out the dimpled features of his smile just past his chin. He leans back into the couch, refraining from shifting into any uncomfortable position for San at the expense of his rigid limbs. Instead, he weaves his hands through his hair in attempt to deviate his mind from the ache in his body, catching the soft locks between his fingers. “What are we watching?” 

He didn’t really need to ask, knowing full well the movie flashing across the screen in front of them at a glance. It was one he’d painstakingly sat through for nearly two hours with his boyfriend after he’d lost a thumb war match against him for a movie night pick. (He prides himself for his strength despite his small size, but as it turns out, he’s weak for that childish persistence of his boyfriend's.)

It’s not that Wooyoung doesn’t enjoy sappy romance movies, but 'Me Before You' just wasn’t his cup of tea. Nevertheless, he endures it for San, even as his boyfriend had been reduced to tears by the end of the movie, barely forming coherent words between his sniffles.

_“You— you heartless— asshole,” San mumbles in between his broken sobs while his cold-blooded boyfriend rubs soothing circles on his back. “Seriously, who— who stole your emotions— why— is your body incapable of tears?”_

_Wooyoung chuckles, digging his nose into the nape of his neck. “San ah, it’s just a movie.”_

_San shoots him a horrified look, as if his words had struck a nerve. “Woo, it’s not 'just a movie'. It’s a story to be told. It’s someone’s fears, happiness, all the emotions woven into a hundred and twenty minutes. Woo, it’s basically a soul in itself.”_

_Wooyoung can’t help the way his heart melts at the rotund pout of his boyfriend’s lips, those cat-eyes rounding with a glint in them that makes him want to hand him the galaxy and everything good in it. He kisses the knot between his eyebrows, feeling the latter relax in his hold, snuggling deeper against him._

_“Alright, Shakespeare. Care to fill me in the soul of this story then?” he muses, watching the light blaze in San’s eyes._

_“First of all, the romance in this? Heartbreaking. It’s true love! They held the world in each other! But then what happens? He chooses to die.“ San waves his hands in the air exasperatedly, the heat of emotions spilling through his words. Wooyoung only pulls himself closer, wrapping his arms around San’s waist as he continues. “I can’t believe it! How could he do that to her? He left her behind just like that!”_

_Wooyoung folds his hands through his boyfriend’s hair, letting the tension slip through his fingertips. “I guess… but why are you so worked up about it. It’s not like he left you.”_

_He sniggers but San doesn’t seem amused by his joke. Casting a glance, he noticed his boyfriend’s eyes turning sullen, a layer of gloom emitting from them._

_“Sannie?”_

_“It’s just…” he trails, flickering his gaze from the ground to his boyfriend’s concerned eyes._

_“Aren’t you afraid… that one day, you’d end up alone?”_

His body goes rigid, recalling the memory. His fingers hover over the tousles of San’s hair, freezing in place. He didn’t expect this… the dreading feeling to creep through his veins. No. He wasn’t having it. Twisting himself a little, he swipes the remote from the table and turns on to a different channel. This time, music flows from the screen and Wooyoung has the strongest urge to just _move._

“Come on, Sannie!” 

Pushing themselves off the couch, Wooyoung slips his hand in San’s, leading him to the space behind the couch they designated as a makeshift dance floor. Guiding his boyfriend’s hands to place them on his hips comes like second nature to him, wrapping his own arms around the other’s neck like they were meant to be there. 

By no means was the melody floating around them meant for slow dances, but still, Wooyoung guides their swaying bodies steadily to the pop-rock tune.

“Do you remember the first time we danced together? Just the two of us?” Wooyoung purrs, making room for himself on San’s shoulder, his fingers playing with the loose strands on the back of his hair. “Oh my _god_. You don’t know just how much I was _suffering.”_

San throws his head back with muted laughter vibrating off his chest. It comes naturally to Wooyoung, the smile filling every space of his features seeing the wide upturn of his lips. It was easy for San to envelope his heart in a tight hold, capturing him in every sense of his body.

He rests his head against San’s, boring holes into his dark, intoxicating eyes.

“That was the night I realised I was in love with you.”

_“Woo! Come oooon! It’s not that haaard…” San whines, irritation clear in his voice. “Why are you being so difficult?”_

_Wooyoung rolls his eyes, panting heavily from where he was sprawled across the floor. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one making this difficult.” He lifts himself off the floor, scuffing his knees from the dust that stuck themselves to his jeans._

_They’ve been going at it for almost an hour. Usually, fifteen minutes of practice was more than enough to learn a new choreography to claim as their own with their skills and talent. But there was one particularly move in their latest title track that was proving to be a huge pain in the ass._

_Specifically, a pain in Wooyoung’s ass._

_But if he was being honest, it really was a simple move and Wooyoung understands why San was particularly irritated about him not getting it right. The sequence wouldn’t even last more than two seconds; San simply has to turn to him, both of them bring a hand to each other’s cheek and Wooyoung turns away._

_It was so fucking simple._

_At least, it would’ve been, if Wooyoung could hold an eye contact for two fucking seconds._

_San shakes his head, his hands baring rigidly on his hips as he narrows his eyes into slits, staring at Wooyoung with a calculative gaze. But Wooyoung, on the other hand, had his mind too preoccupied on calming the torrential waves in his chest, his erratic heart doing nothing to ease the turbulence._

_Wooyoung was indeed, fucked._

_Readying themselves in position and while waiting for the right timing to execute the move, Wooyoung knows he's dug this grave for himself. He mentally curses himself for accidentally binging too many fan made 'WOOSAN' video compilations._

_He wishes he hadn’t noticed the way his heart skipped one too many beats watching the two of them together._

_He so goddamn wishes he hadn’t realised he was in deep shit for falling in love with his best friend._

_San’s part comes blaring through the speakers and he knows he’s on beat to turn, but as soon as he does, he’s desperately ready to turn away. Because looking at San with this new realisation was already too much. Staring deep into his eyes with the state he was in? Catastrophic._

_But this time, before he even has a chance of pulling away, San grabs his forearms in a tight grip, unrelenting._

_This time, San crashes their lips together._

_Every speck of blood in his vein freezes. His mind drawing blanks as he stares wide-eyed at the tightly shut ones just a breath away from him. He feels the wires in his brain short circuiting, trying to comprehend the lips against his._

_His best friend was kissing him._

_His best friend, who he’d recently realised he was in love with, was kissing him._

_'God? You doing this?'_

_Yet, somehow, the intrusion doesn’t repel him. Somehow, the gentle lips moving against his like passing clouds was the only thing he could focus on. The taste of him was like the smell of a new home, invading all his senses and overwhelming his sensations._

_San’s lips against his were foreign, but not unpleasant— no._

_It was like tasting comfort and desire on his lips._

_He wills his eyelids to shut, snaking his hands behind the boy’s head and curling his fingers into the locks of his hair. He feels the stretched upturn of his lips against his as they shuffle slowly until Wooyoung shivers at the touch of the cold surface of the wall mirrors on his back. The kiss wasn’t hasty, despite the electrifying volts traversing through his body, but a gentle collision like pillows on his mouth. Wooyoung couldn’t help but sneak a guilty peek at him in the lapses of their breaths, needing some sort of belief that this wasn’t just a figment of his imagination._

_He could almost taste his heart in his throat when it was real. San was actually kissing him._

_When they pull away only at the expanse of catching their breaths, heat rises to Wooyoung’s cheeks, enflaming them in a bright tinge he couldn’t help but hide away. The pleasure building at the pit of his stomach turns into a realisation that dawned on him a little too late. What did they just do?_

_But San catches his hands before they could fly to his face, hanging them in the air as he cocked his head mercilessly to a side, a devious smirk playing on his flushed lips._

_“So, I was right.” San raked his eyes over him and Wooyoung had never felt so small, so terrified. “I thought you were acting strange when you wouldn’t let me close to you like you always did. Lately, whenever we talked, you never looked at me in the eyes. And whenever we touched, you reacted like a nuclear bomb exploded.”_

_He leans in closer, his eyelids halving as if capturing Wooyoung in an encapsulating spell. “You like me, don’t you?”_

_'No, stupid.'_

_Wooyoung forces those delicious biceps off, shoving him._

_'I fucking love you and that terrifies me.'_

_“I… I don’t want to.” Wooyoung shift his head away, unwilling to meet his eyes for fear he’d get lost in them again. “I don’t want to… risk us. If anything happens to us, it’ll affect the team— everything we’ve built so hard for, including our friendship. I just—“ he bites his inner cheek, digging his nails into the palm of his hands, the truth of his fear slipping from his tongue._

_“I don’t… I don’t want to break your heart.”_

_There’s a silent pause with heaviness hanging over the air, but Wooyoung doesn’t have the heart to look._

_“Are you an idiot?”_

_Wooyoung whips his head, turning to meet the amusement in San’s eyes as he tilts his head, brows pulling together with a smugly grin._

_“We’re two fools in love with each other. There’s bound to be heartbreaks along the way.” San takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him closer with a sharp tug. He leans in once again and Wooyoung swears his soul has ascended by the way San angles himself, brushing their lips together._

_“Just promise me that, even through all the heartbreaks, you’ll never let me go.”_

A striking bolt of lightning shoots up his casted leg, overwhelming him in an indescribable pain. Still, Wooyoung grits his teeth from the pained scream threatening to fall, hot tears pricking his eyes from the pain as he leans off his fractured foot. But the sudden shift in balance catches him off-guard, making him stumble backwards, his back hitting the edge of a table and knocking one of the vases off the surface. Wooyoung didn’t even have the time to register the falling object until it smashes against the ground, emitting a terrifying shatter of glass that seizes him whole.

The shatter of glass.

The screeching of tires, burning asphalt and heat.

The last glance he would make towards the boy he loves, terror in both their eyes, before everything in his vision flips.

The memories bullets through his vision, unruly in it's trail. Wooyoung collapses to the ground with an audible thud, his body too heavy for him to hold any longer. 

It aches.

Not only from the galvanic throbbing of his broken leg.

His heart. His chest. _Everything_ to the tips of his fingers were excruciatingly _pulsating._ His lungs scratched for air, forcing rapid fire breaths, yet no oxygen seem to reache him. His nails dig deep into his chest, desperate to stop the flaring pain from subjugating him.

Suddenly, he feels a pair of hands wrap around him.

Hands that were long and slender.

Hands that weren’t San’s.

“Wooyoung!! Stop that!! You’re hurting yourself!!” Yeosang tears his hands away from his chest, eyes creased in deep worry with a glassy layer surfacing them.

The rest of the members rush in, padding their feet against the ground like the way Wooyoung’s heart was beating against his ribcage. Loud and overbearing. They screech to a stop at the sight of the glittering shards of glass littered across the floor.

Seonghwa gasps, hands flying to his mouth. “Woo…” From the speckles of glass to the frenzied state of his friend, his eyes instantaneously search for any signs of blood. He quickly tells one of the members to bring out the dustpan before carefully squatting himself in a spot near Wooyoung that didn’t have pieces of glass threatening to stab him. Though he tries hard to focus on Wooyoung's cloudy eyes, his own eyes can’t tear away from the long, goring red lines stretching from the peek of chest beneath the latter's shirt all the way up to his neck. “Woo, you’re hurting. You've _been_ hurting. You need to— Can you _please_ tell us what’s on your mind?”

Wooyoung darts his eyes around the room, quick flashes of his member’s horrified faces crossing his mind. They were all there around him. 

All but one.

“S-San…” he whispers, as if in a trance, calling out his name. Once. Twice. But his eyes can’t find him. He’s not there. _He’s not there._

“S-San-nie… where— h-hyung, I can’t find— where’s S-Sannie?” Wooyoung grows desperate the longer they linger in his absence. He rips his hands from Yeosang’s grasp, mustering enough energy to push himself off the floor, wincing when the heaviness of his broken foot anchors him to the ground instead. Still, he can’t bring himself to care about the stabbing sensation beneath the cast. “Wh— I h-have to find— Sannie is— why— WHY CAN’T I FIND HIM?”

Repelling the hands attempting to touch him, he steadies himself on his feet, his chest heaving from the heavy weight of his body and the burdening _agony_ creeping beneath his skin. The pounding of his heartbeat was especially loud in his ears, thudding against his chest like it was ready to be ripped out. His thoughts only add fuel to the fire brewing underneath.

There was only one place left.

One place where he could find traces of San.

He drags his broken foot across the floor, shuffling himself towards his rooms. Little pricks attack his bare foot from the remnants of glass probably naked to the eye of whoever’d been sweeping the shattered pieces, but they did little to stop him.

He just needs to find traces.

He just needs to cling onto some… _something of him._

“Wooyoung! Stop this!” Yunho slips in front of him, grounding his shoulder in place to stop him from moving any further. From the shake of his body to the fingers clutching his shirt tightly, Yunho was _trembling_ , shades of red colouring his face with unshed tears. Still, Wooyoung remains rigid stiff in his hold. “You have to— Please, just talk to us! You can’t… you need to let us know how much you’re hurting because we’re hurting too!”

Cracks fill his voice with a desperate plea, skipping a heart beat that almost makes Wooyoung give in. _Almost_.

“I…” breathlessly, his eyes draw blanks, the fight in him dulling as his shoulders slump. It was heavy. Too fucking heavy. “I… I need to… find San…”

“You’re being so unfair, hyung!” Jongho whips him around, and Wooyoung barely recognises the youthful glow that always came from the youngest. Instead, dark lines crease beneath his eyes, his teeth gritting and the earth-shattering _sadness_ clouding within his irises replace them. “You— It’s been a fucking month! You haven’t said a _word_ since the accident, you wouldn’t let us go _near_ you and now you’re pushing us away?”

“Jongho, let me go—“

“There’s no one else in that room, Wooyoung hyung. You know that! You know that he’s—“

“SHUT THE HELL UP.”

Wooyoung shoves him back, the latter stumbling backwards with Mingi catching him before he falls. The heat beneath his skin was _volcanic,_ radiating off of him through the rapid rise and falls of his chest to the daggers he shot at his members. They could send him shattered looks for all he cares. He brushes past them, slamming the door shut before any of them had a chance to intervene.

He can’t do this.

He can’t hear those words.

Hearing them would be accepting that San was—

San was—

“Wooyoung ah.” Wooyoung was easing into the mattress when his leader started to call out to him softly. He doesn’t have the energy to answer, only burying himself into the intoxicating fragrant that attack his nose gently as he hits the sheets. “Woo, you don’t have to open the door but… at least just— just listen, alright?”

It makes him dizzy, the penetrating scent of flowers digging daggers into his brain. It’s what he needs. For the blades of truth in these empty sheets to tear him apart. For them to stop the blood from rushing mad, chilling the heat beneath his skin. He curls himself around the covers, bracing himself. 

Cold. Too cold.

He’s not ready.

It’s _too cold_ here and he’s not ready.

Because he promised, through all the heartbreaks, he would never let him go.

_Don't make me let him go._

“Sannie’s gone, Woo. He’s dead. You’re the only one who survived the crash.”

_Don’t say that. I need him. Please, don't say that._

“You’re the only one they could save.”

“Dont— I dont want—“ Wooyoung digs himself deeper, writhing into the sheets. His mind whirred in different directions, pulling him apart at the seams. Everything was too fast for him. He needs to slow down. He can't— He can't go back to that night again.

They were the memories striking to the forefront of his mind in fragments, memories he can’t bear to replay again. Memories _too_ vivid. They stretch intrusively through the vessel in his body, enveloping his entire soul into oblivion.

“I dont… want to... remember…”

_“Chief! We have one here!! He’s— He’s breathing!”_

_“Pull over the oxygen mask and do something about his foot. Then, put him on a stretcher and don’t wait. His BP is plunging. He needs ER stat. Radio in code 3.”_

_“Wait, chief— what about the— what about the other kid?”_

_“His condition?”_

_“N-Not… He— He’s deceased.”/_

Wooyoung grip the sheets harder, the heaviness of his choked sobs suffocating his chest. He can’t breathe and all he wants to do is disappear into the sheets.

_“Ch— chief… that boy…”_

_“What, Ahn?”_

_“N-Nevermind.”_

_“Don’t waste my time, Ahn. What do you want to say?”_

_“No— it’s just—“_

Nails dig into his chest, clawing at the stabbing pain beneath. His ragged breaths burn against his throat with clenched screams. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t. 

“It _hurts_ , Sannie. It fucking hurts.” Wooyoung knows that throaty whispers could only be heard by the pillows and the ghost of him in the dip of the mattress. His hot breath bounces off the surface, fanning his flaming features and releasing the acidic tears that run down his cheeks, setting everything ablaze.

_“It seems like that boy threw himself across the seat to protect his friend.”_

It was the undeniable truth that killed him. 

That San died because of him.

That San died because Wooyoung was a fool to love him and be loved by him.

If he hadn’t allowed the love between them bloom, if he’d just put a stop to their stupid, hopeful relationship, then… then…

Then, San wouldn’t have tried to save him.

San would’ve been _alive_.

Wooyoung feels himself burning out, the fight within him evaporating like hot gas. A ball of darkness sits on his chest, sucking every fibre of his being into its obscurity. Nothingness. He melts into the mattress, feeling his limbs weighing like dumbbells he didn’t have the strength lift. 

Not that he wanted to either.

“Wooyoung ah, we know about your relationship with San. We’ve always known that the two of you were in love,” Hongjoong calls from the other side of the door. 

_We shouldn’t have been._

Wooyoung dances his fingers to the dip of the mattress where San used to lie, staring at him with affectionate eyes with a gaze that warranted nothing but comfort and love within those irises he made homes of.

“Woo, Sannie means the world to us, so we can only imagine what he means to you. We understand that his death is hitting you the hardest, Woo. But I hope you’re not blaming yourself for surviving. Sannie wouldn’t want that.”

_You're wrong. It should’ve been me._

His eyelids burn when he shuts them. The roughness and hot patches of tears tear his skin, numbing him further. His breaths cuts short, gradually pacing at a snail's pace. Against his own will yet no means to fight it, the darkness creeps up on him, encroaching his vision and every patch of his mind.

“Just— Please, Woo. We’re worried about you. We’re all here for you when you’re ready to talk, okay? You’re not alone.”

_Yes, I am._

Wooyoung lets the stillness overwhelm him, his mind blanking and the gap where his heart used to be boring holes into his soul. He felt unnervingly empty, like the cold space beside him.

“Sannie…” the words slip through his mouth soullessly, only focusing on the shadow behind his eyelids that seem to be pulling him closer. “You asked me once if I was afraid of ending up alone.”

Every laugh. Every flash of his dimpled smile. Every time he looked at the boy with all his heart and soul melted into every gaze.

All lost. Gone. Embedded in past history without ever having the ability to experience them again.

“Well, I’m fucking _terrified.”_

Before the accident, a world without San just didn’t seem remotely possible.

Every waking moment Wooyoung had, it was tied to the boy who shone brighter than the sun, who loved like the language of a million roses, who gave him a new, irreplaceable reason to breathe with purpose. Every corner of his life was smeared with the existence of the boy who brought him too much happiness into his life. 

Wooyoung had already ingrained it in his mind— that San was his forever without a doubt.

So, a world without San was _impossible_.

He didn’t know a life outside of loving San, waking up to him and holding him with everything he has.

No, a life like that was just _ludicrous_.

He can’t believe in a reality without San by his side.

So, he doesn’t.

Dawn crawls through the cranny of his blinds, the warmth of the sun rays intruding the darkness he found comfort and peaceful sleep in. Wooyoung stirs awake, consciousness seeping through the gaps of his eyelids as he feels subtle tickles against his nose.

The fresh fondness spread across his lips into a soft smile instantly, feeling the flutter of lively butterflies fanning across his skin.

His eyes flutter open, meeting the rounded eyes and dimpled smile he couldn’t help but melt into. He brushes the luscious locks falling into the boy’s eyes behind his ear, his fingers feeling cold despite the touch.

He leans into the scent, breathing in the comfort of frangipanis.

“Good morning, my beautiful.”

**Author's Note:**

> tears were shed in the making of this story.
> 
> anywaysss i hope you liked it!! thank you for reading and please leave comments and let me know what you thought! 
> 
> hope to see you in the next work~


End file.
